To Hell and Back
by Ianua
Summary: Bethany's nighmares: Bad memories? Premonitions? Or just bad dreams? Old friends and new return from another plane of existance to help her out
1. The Dream

Disclaimer: Any Dogma characters you recognise are property of Kevin Smith and the film company. Any you don't are probably mine. Since I have no money, you'll only get a few raggedy Lord of the Rings posters and dog- eared paperbacks out of me if you sue.  
  
Icy fingers seemed to dance their way over Bethany's shoulders, and down her spine. She looked around an environment she didn't remember. Her clothes had been reduced to nothing more than dirty white rags. She pulled them around herself, and walked in the most promising direction: Forward into the smoke that surrounded her. As the smoke cleared, she began to see where her feet were carrying her. She was walking into the entrance of a tunnel, a cavernous black mouth, belching out smoke tainted with the reek of scorched flesh. Cold prickles of sweat covered her forehead, she tried to turn back, but her feet carried her mindlessly onwards, down and down into the belly of the earth. The stench of sulphur, and that horrible, ever prevalent smell, of burning flesh scraped at her nostrils and throat. The heat was intense. As she looked around her, she saw cracks in the floor ahead, tiny streams of molten rock. Even as she stepped on them, the skin did not blister or burn. The smell grew stronger as she continued into a massive underground cavern. A pair of broken iron gates lay ahead. Passing through them, Bethany felt as if she had walked through an invisible wall, because the instant she did, a tumultuous roar of agonised screams hit her ears. She tried to cover them, but her hands seemed locked to her sides. Still her feet carried her blindly onwards.  
  
A row of crosses lay ahead. On the crosses, men and women cried out in sheer agony, whipped by demons for every sound they made. Behind the crosses were more and more rows. All around her were people screaming with pain. A man who looked as if he could be whipped to more was still having his bare back lashed by yet another demon. A woman, bound to a wall by evil- looking manacles, had her naked body covered with hissing snakes, and screeched as they sank in their fangs repeatedly. That stench of death came from huge heaps of burning bodies, with demons constantly shovelling hot coals onto their victims, who were begging for mercy. She wanted to vomit, or scream, or both. And there in the midst of it all, stood a white-suited Azreal, a sneer on his face as Bethany hypnotically walked towards him.  
  
With a snap of his fingers, she was knelt before him, bowing her head in shame and completely under his control. "So, here you are. Nice place for a first date, though it does get a little...stuffy". He laughed softly, crouching to her level to wipe away a tear with one clawed finger. "You know, I hope you like it here, because you'll be here a while. I've been looking for someone like you. But, if you're going to stay here, maybe we should make a few...minor changes". He took her hand, and pulled her to her feet. "I think make-up and wardrobe may need to do a little work on you." Yet another snap of his fingers, and the rags were gone, and she stood, every inch a queen of hell in red and black velvet and lace, her hair held back with a gold net dripping with precious stones. The dress was suffocatingly hot, and uncomfortably tight around her chest and stomach, the headdress too heavy.  
  
"Perfect" he smiled "And now, my little princess, one last thing..." He walked behind her, lacing his hands around her waist, bringing them to rest on her heavily pregnant stomach, pressing the claws in lightly. "A little girl, if I'm not mistaken. The last, last scion. Since she doesn't appear to have any last words...." "No...Please" She whispered "We can't have the little brat causing any problems can we? You'll never miss her, not when you've got a few little demons of your own" "No, You can't" "Think you'll find I can" He sneered, digging the claws in deeper, puncturing the skin. Bethany winced "Please, you can do anything, not her..." "Sorry Bethany" he grinned widely as two demons grabbed her wrists. "NO! Please Azreal, NO!" She screamed, but to no avail. He produced a ruby-studded dagger from a pocket, and without warning, plunged it deep into her stomach. Pain exploded through her body as she screamed, her head thrown back in agony, choking blood as Azreal laughed in her face.  
  
A/N: Yep, My first Dogma Fic (Phew, after writers block, it's all coming back too quickly!). Hoping to have some fun with the Metatron, Jay and Silent Bob in later chapters. Will post more very soon.  
  
Bye for now  
  
Ianua xx 


	2. Tears in the morning

A/N: Yes, another chapter (I passed up my beauty sleep for this one, so you'd better review..the button, the little purple button, one click and a few words is all it takes...please?) Hope you enjoy this one.  
  
Ianua x  
  
With one last scream of pain, Bethany woke herself up. Cold sweat drenched her, she was freezing, and as she awoke, pain slowly flooded her body. She looked down and saw why. Her pyjamas looked as though she'd been thrown into the cage of some wild animal. Torn and bloody, the remaining shreds did nothing to hide her wounds. Claw marks, some looking deep and messy covered her arms and chest. The deepest was a long slash across her stomach. She tried to lift her head, but fell back with a small cry of pain. What she had seen looked like something from a horror film. With difficulty, she turned her head to look at her left arm, and promptly fainted at what she saw.  
  
***  
  
"No, Azreal, Please no..."  
  
The pitiful moans and whimpers of pain would stay with the Metatron until the end of his (probably eternal) life. He watched with a grave expression as the almighty, dressed top to toe in shocking pink, tended to Bethany's wounds. Bethany pleaded constantly with the Azreal in her nightmares, but to no avail, every plea was shortly followed by a flinch of pain. Under the hands of God, Bethany's open wounds became scars, and her scars became new skin. But somehow the feeling of doubt crept into the Metatron's head. Could her mind really be healed as easy as that?  
  
"Stay with her" God whispered quietly "She'll be better with someone she knows" Before the Metatron could ask any questions, she was gone. He stood at the end of the bed, watching her sleep.  
  
Bethany stirred in her bed. Memories of the past night came flooding back to her in a tidal wave of misery and pain. She'd almost lost her reason for living. The last, last scion. Was it still there? She felt, finding a little comfort in her still swollen belly. However, the memories of death and torture, those images of hell were still freshly burnt into her eyes and mind. Not noticing the Metatron, she softly began to cry into her pillow like a child, sobs of misery, confusion and fear catching in her throat.  
  
The Metatron walked over quietly, sitting softly on the edge of the bed. Bethany jumped. He said nothing, simply offering her his open arms. She leaned into the offered warmth, and felt the embrace, and fresh tears fell down the angel's front. They took a long time to subside, but no explanations were asked for or given.  
  
When tears finally did give way to silence, punctuated by the occasional sob, the angel took a tissue from his pocket and wiped her puffy, tear- stained face. "Now you've messed up ANOTHER one of my suits, you could at least tell me why you're crying" "It was...I....." she started "Nightmares?" "Yes...but I woke up...the blood, I thought she was dead" "Azreal?" He asked "He wanted to make me a queen, and when I wouldn't let him take her, they held me down and..." She broke into fresh sobs at the memory. "Shhhh...." He soothed, trying to hide his mounting anger at Azreal Nightmares like this didn't just pop into the mortal subconscious. Nor did wounds like the ones he has seen earlier just appear on the mortal body. Someone was behind this. He'd bet his own wings it was Azreal. 


	3. Awakening in London

A/N: It's set in London because it seemed a good idea at the time, okay? Hehe, but anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and apologies to Emo for taking so long to update  
  
*Two Months Later*  
  
It was early morning in London, a Sunday, and a watery May sun had begun to show it's face on the horizon. As the first shafts of light warmed the cracked pavements, the residents of a quiet Kensington street were awoken, not by church bells, but by a loud outburst of fairly choice language.  
  
"Dude, Where the fuck are we anyway? Man, if I knew we were coming to a shitty place like this, I would've stayed behind! Fuck it! We're lost, right?"  
  
A bewildered looking man with shoulder length hair under a grubby baseball cap looked around, not bothering to disguise the fact that he was hopelessly lost. His companion, a quiet man with a trimmed black beard and a green overcoat simply grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him forward.  
  
"We always get these shitty jobs! What the fuck is up with that, man?"  
  
Rolling his eyes, the overcoated man pulled him up to a small, two story house, set far back from the street. It had a smallish front garden, screened from the road by ivy-covered sycamores. A stone goddess, also swathed in ivy, looked blankly out over an untidy scrap of lawn, bordered by clumps of bright tulips and sunflowers. They walked up the crumbling path and knocked at the red front door.  
  
Bethany, sleepy eyed and still in striped pyjamas, answered.  
  
"What do you want?" She yawned. Pleasantries, she had found, were wasted on Jay.  
  
"Dude, what the fuck is that? We come here to see you, from another fuckin' plane of existence, and all you've got to say is "What do you want?"  
  
"Yep. So, What DO you want?"  
  
"Umm...shit." He turned to Silent Bob to whisper "Dude, what do we want?"  
  
Bob rolled his eyes and looked at Bethany. "Lydia" 


	4. Waking Lydia

A/N: Well, here you go, a fairly long one this time (Finally, a good use for maths lessons). Enjoy  
  
Ianua  
  
Chapter 4 Waking Lydia  
  
"Lydia's asleep" She smiled "You can see her when she wakes up if you like. Anyway, come on in for a drink, it'll have to be coffee, we're all out of anything stronger"  
  
"Who the fuck is Lydia?" Jay looked, if possible more confused than ever.  
  
"My daughter"  
  
"Oh that's just fucking perfect, it gets to the end of the fuckin' WORLD, and you promise to fuck me, and then when the world doesn't end, you run off and have someone else's kid. Who's the guy anyway?"  
  
"There wasn't one, she just..um...got there"  
  
"What the f-"  
  
Jay was cut short by a dig in the ribs from Silent Bob that told him this wasn't something he wanted to hear.  
  
Bethany broke the awkward silence that resulted "Anyway...come on in"  
  
"It's a bit of a mess" Bethany apologised, leading them down a narrow corridor and into the kitchen. "But, well, beggars can't be choosers. I got it cheap, it was a wreck, windows smashed, garden overgrown, but well, it's getting better, slowly" She continued to ramble as she made three mugs of strong coffee and handed two of them to Jay and Bob.  
  
There were half-unpacked boxes here and there, showing the short time she'd been living there. A new job in London meant leaving New Jersey, not necessarily a bad thing, Bethany thought. Lydia had been born shortly afterwards, and was now approaching two months old.  
  
The kitchen was, like the hallway, tiny. Paint-splattered dustsheets covered the floor, and a fresh layer of warm yellow paint glistened on the walls. The ceiling was a skylight, slightly yellowed around the edges, but letting light and warmth into the small room.  
  
For once, even Jay didn't have much to say, it was just one of the quiet moments that are almost like punctuation or a pause for breath in life. The three simply stood, sipping their coffee and thinking to themselves. The quiet lasted around five minutes, before a baby's cry sounded from upstairs. "Back in a minute" Bethany sighed, before hurrying out of the room and up the rickety staircase that led upstairs.  
  
When she got to the landing, the crying stopped. She could hear a low voice from Lydia's room, someone murmuring to Lydia, hushing her. She froze, listening. Softly, she crept toward Lydia's door, and, taking a deep breath, pushed it open. There, in the middle of the room, stood the Metatron, shushing the small, blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms, a slight smile on his face. 


End file.
